Health & safety
by cein
Summary: Post COTP fic. SLASH. Mac & Don


Title: Health & Safety  
Author: Ceindreadh  
Type of story: Slash  
Fandom: CSI NY  
Pairing: Mac/Don  
Rating: NC-17 for slash and language  
Other Notes: It's always when I'm supposed to be studying that I get most inspired. (When will somebody come up with a diploma in Slash?)

Health & Safety

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"Fuck me!" said Don, his voice sounding as tired as he felt. "Fuck me!"

"I thought I just did," said Mac with a smile as he gently stroked Don's hair.

Mac was sitting up in the bed, propped up against the headboard. Don lay sprawled across the mattress, his head resting in Mac's lap.

"You know what I mean." Don reached up and took Mac's hand, entwining their fingers. "That was just...wow..."

"You know, I think that's the first time I've seen you speechless," said Mac, a smile on his face.

"C'mon Mac, after what you and me just did, I'm barely able to breathe let alone talk!"

A look of concern appeared on Mac's face. Pulling his hand out of Don's, he grabbed Don's wrist and felt his pulse.

"Mac!" Don pulled his hand away and sat up. "I didn't mean it in no bad way."

"Maybe we shouldn't have..." Mac's words were cut off by a finger on his lips.

"Don't say that..."

It had taken long enough for Don and Mac to get to this stage in their relationship.

Mac had been a regular visitor throughout the long weeks Don had spent in hospital after the bombing. He hadn't been the only visitor that Don had had, but he was the only one who had lived through the bomb blast...the only one who Don felt able to talk to about that day. With everybody else, Don tried to brush it off...to act like it was no big deal that he'd had half a cell phone pulled from his belly...that he'd spent hours on an operating table...days on the critical list. He cracked jokes about how he was looking forward to his 'vacation', how he was gonna have a great time convalescing, while the rest of the poor saps in the precinct had to work over the summer. He listened to every lame joke about cell phones and photocopiers and kept a smile on his face. He let everybody believe that his memory of that day was a complete blank...he didn't tell anybody about the nightmares...nobody but Mac.

Mac was the only person Don was able to confide in. The only person he told the truth to when asked, "How are you"...the only one he told about the dreams.

"It's like I'm back there, Mac. Under all the rubble. I can feel its weight pressin down on top of me, and I can't move...can't even breathe...and I can't hear a thing...and I know I'm all alone and there'z nobody comin to help...and I feel like I'm gonna die there all alone..."

"You're not alone, Don," Mac had told him that first time that Don had confided in him. "You've got friends all around you. Danny, Stella..."

Don had shaken his head, "They weren't there, Mac. I know they mean well...but when I talk about it...they don't know what it was like...I just...I just can't explain it..."

"I understand."

And Mac had understood. They'd talked a lot while Don was in the hospital, and even more while Don was convalescing at home. Mac had stayed over a few nights, sleeping on the couch at first, and eventually being persuaded to join Don in his double bed.

They'd taken things slowly at first. Mac had been reluctant to move too fast, partly due to his concern for Don's health. He'd refused to do more than kiss or cuddle with Don until the younger man had received a clean bill of health from his Doctor.

"I don't want to have to explain to your Lieutenant just why you're not fit for work as quickly as you ought to be."

"Ah come on Mac," Don had protested. "You know that sex is supposed to be good for healing. All those indo...endo...endorphin thingies that get released. Makes a body heal faster." He'd seen the look on Mac's face and added, "Hey, I've been stuck here watching Discovery for weeks. Can't help it if I picked up something."

"You definitely have too much time on your hands," Mac had teased him, but he had held firm to his resolve to avoid letting the relationship get too physical.

It wasn't just Don's health that was the sticking point. Although Mac was enjoying the way their relationship had deepened since the bombing, he was still somewhat reluctant to take the final step. He cared deeply for Don, that much was true, and he knew the younger man reciprocated his feelings. But there were so many factors weighed against them...the age gap, the fact that they worked together on a regular basis...Mac wasn't sure that taking their relationship to the next level was the right thing to do, particularly when Don was so vulnerable both physically and emotionally. Mac didn't want the young Detective to take that step...and then regret it afterwards.

But the night after Don had been given the all clear to return to work, Mac knew that the decision couldn't be put off any longer. And if truth be told, he wasn't really sure he wanted to delay further. Mac promised himself that he would be careful...that he would let Don set the pace...that if at any time Don seemed uncomfortable, either physically or emotionally, that he would back off and let Don decide if he wanted to continue.

In the end, Don having got the all clear, seemed almost as reluctant as Mac had been in the previous few weeks, although for a completely different reason.

They'd made their way to Don's bed and then hesitated. Mac shrugged out of his jacket, and then moved over to Don and kissed him. "Are you sure about this, Don? I won't be offended if you want to take things slow."

"Are you kidding?" Don had grinned. "Been waiting for this for months!" He grabbed Mac's shirt and started pulling open the buttons. "Little overdressed aren't you?"

They'd shed their clothing rapidly, but when Mac reached for Don's undershirt, to his surprise, his hands were pushed away. "Don?"

"I...I think I'd rather leave it on..." Don knew that it was stupid of him. After all, Mac had been there when his belly had been split open for all to see...he'd taken pictures of him as he'd lain on a hospital gurney...he'd seen Don's injury at various stages of healing...but Don just couldn't bear the thought of him seeing that scar now.

Mac's hand caressed Don's cheek, rubbing gently on the slowly fading scars. "It's just a scar, it doesn't change you..."

"I know...I just..." Mac's thumb brushed over Don's lips, quietening him. He pulled away slightly and removed his own undershirt.

"It's just a scar," he said, taking Don's hand and placing it over his own war wound.

"I...what...when?"

"It doesn't matter..."

Don didn't resist this time as Mac pulled the garment off him. He sucked in his breath as Mac's fingers gently traced a line around the site of his injury.

"Am I hurting you?" Mac pulled his hand away slightly.

"No...don't stop..." Don grabbed Mac's hand and replaced it.

And Mac didn't stop. His hands and mouth and tongue didn't rest until they had explored every inch of Don's body. And then he grabbed the lube and condoms and completed his exploration internally.

-----------------

"C'mon Mac, after what you and me just did, I'm barely able to breathe let alone talk!"

A look of concern appeared on Mac's face. Pulling his hand out of Don's, he grabbed Don's wrist and felt his pulse.

"Mac!" Don pulled his hand away and sat up. "I didn't mean it in no bad way."

"Maybe we shouldn't have..." Mac's words were cut off by a finger on his lips.

"Don't say that..."

Mac pulled Don's hand away. "I'd never forgive myself if I caused you to relapse."

"I'm not gonna relapse, Mac. Okay, I'm tired, hell, who wouldn't be after amazing sex like that." Don grinned broadly. "But I'm okay, honest. Not like made of glass or nothin that I'm gonna break easily. Hell, even a photocopier landing on me barely made a dent!" He leaned forward and kissed Mac on the mouth, parting Mac's lips with his tongue and pressing so close that for a minute or more it was if they were a single entity.

When Don finally pulled away, it was Mac's turn to be breathless.

"Fuck me!" Mac finally managed to say.

"Okay," said Don.

And he did.

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The End


End file.
